


Three times Bucky thought that Steve died (and one time he didn’t)

by PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson



Series: Don’t urge me to leave you or turn back from you [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assumed Character Death, Chosen Soulmates, Dehumanization, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Mental Link, Not Really Character Death, Podfic Welcome, Sharing Pain, Standard Winter Soldier Warnings, Super Soldier Serum, Telepathic Bond, Torture, Transformative Works Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson/pseuds/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson
Summary: Steve Rogers almost dies so many times... unfortunately, Bucky can feel when that happens.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Don’t urge me to leave you or turn back from you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586707
Comments: 22
Kudos: 85





	1. The first time (on the way to Camp McCoy)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Posting this earlier than usual because my neck aches and I can’t focus on writing.
> 
> Yes there are five chapters, yes this is a 3+1, no this is not a mistake. You will find out eventually.
> 
> This first chapter is very short, and not very sad, but it will quickly get longer and sadder! Be aware of the tags! Most of them are for other chapters. Tell me if I’m missing any!
> 
> I will be posting this every Thursday, so keep an eye out!
> 
> Note:this work can be read before, during or after you read the companion story, “your people will be my people, and your God my God”

Bucky fell asleep on the train, only a little bit away from the station. He hadn’t slept well last night, worried about everything. Steve’s health, how long they would be apart, and everything in between.

Then he had woken up to Steve feeling down. It was always awful, feeling the heavy sadness, the exhaustion in his head. It exhausted him too, constantly pushing love and care towards him, even though he always felt guilty about it.

He woke up with the sun in his eyes, it being much later in the day.

The first thing he noticed was a tightness in his chest, the bond practically singing with tension, Steve’s end of the bond not even close enough to “see,” going into the distance.

Then he realized that he couldn’t feel Steve at all. He hated the feeling of being alone in his head, without even Steve’s feelings to keep him company. Even though they had only been soulmates for about fifteen percent of their lives, and were separated almost every day by Bucky going to work, it always felt right, like a gear fitting perfectly, in the place that was made for it.

The feelings were completely gone, usually he at least had faint wisps of feelings...

Steve was probably sleeping, he always slept more on days that he was feeling down, or maybe the distance was even enough to make it impossible to feel Steve...

He tugged at the bond. If it was like a string, then maybe the tug could be felt on the other side.

He tugged again, harder this time. He knew that Steve needed his sleep, but what if...

There was a faint tug at the bond, pulling at his chest. He relaxed, tugging again, gently this time.

They tugged back and forth for a while, getting used to the sensation.

Bucky tried sending love to Steve, putting all his energy into it, but he didn’t get a response. They were probably too far away to send feelings.

Bucky grabbed his book from his bag, and settled into his seat.


	2. The second time (in Europe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a slightly sadder and longer chapter! I hope this will distract you from the craziness out there by... making you sad? It might work... but probably not. I hope you like this chapter either way!

Bucky was marching, his focus on the bond. He hadn’t felt any emotions from Steve since coming over to Europe, but he kept his hopes up. It was possible that they wouldn’t be able to feel anything from each other, except for the occasional, reassuring tugs on the bond, over this distance.

Suddenly he felt a surge of pain all through his body. It startled him so bad that he staggered, almost falling over.

The pain was faint, dulled by distance, but awful nonetheless.

It was a deep ache in his body, travelling through his veins, heating his skin up like a sunburn.

It got worse slowly, his bones aching like growing pains, and his guts churning.

Dum Dum, who was beside him, looked at him weirdly, obviously worried by his stiff movements, marching on automatic, almost all of his focus on the bond and the pain.

His heart was pounding in his ears, a pressure behind his eyes starting up an awful headache.

If he was feeling this much pain, he thought worriedly, and he was far enough away that he couldn’t feel anything else from Steve, then how much worse was it for Steve?

All he could focus on was the bond, tugging reassuringly, and pushing all the love and comfort that he could manage.

Who knew how he was feeling, what was happening to him? He knew that it wouldn’t reach Steve, but it was the only thing that he could do.

Then, the pain stopped so suddenly that Bucky stumbled again, but managed to stay on his feet. There was no more pain, no anything.

Was Steve ok? What had happened? Was Steve... dead? With that amount of pain...

He tugged frantically at the bond, needing an answer.

Steve tugged back, gently, but there.

Relief washed over him like an open fire hydrant during a Brooklyn summer.

Steve was alive! And if he was conscious enough to tug back, he was probably ok, but Bucky tugged on the bond again, needing the reassurance.

Steve tugged back again. The fear was going away slowly, his heartbeat slowing down, but if Steve was in that much pain, but was still conscious enough to reassure him...

What had happened? How was it even possible to go through that much pain?

He had felt Steve break his nose when they were in the same alley, and that had been worse than what he had just felt, but not by much, which was worrying, especially considering the distance between them. And that it had been all over, from head to toes...

He was worried, but Steve was alive, so it would be fine. He would still be worrying until he saw Steve in the flesh though.


	3. The third time (after falling)

Bucky woke up, his body aching, especially his head and left elbow. Something was wrong. Steve was far away, feeling awful.

Where was he? Had he been captured?

He couldn’t muster up the energy to care, lassitude heavy in his veins. If he was captured, Steve would save him, he was already concerned.

The air was cold, a rough, scratchy... mattress? beneath him. There was a pinch in his right elbow, his mind slippery, thoughts slipping through his head like a wet bar of soap through his hands.

He missed the comforting weight of his tags.

His arms and legs were strapped down, and usually even the thought of it was terrifying, but his slippery thoughts wouldn’t let him be scared. He was aching all over, but his elbow felt odd, a searing pain in it that abruptly stopped below it.

He tried opening his eyes, seeing concrete above him before his eyes closed again. His head ached, and his eyelids were like lead weights.

Time passed vaguely, slipping by him, he could feel Steve moving around, feelings changing slightly. They were still negative though, anger, fear, and sadness.

Steve was probably planning a rescue mission.

A long time later, he heard someone come in and fiddle with what was probably the IV in his arm. He tried to open his eyes, but they were even heavier than before. He had probably gotten some more sedatives.

He drifted again, the aches now dulled even more. He woke up later, feeling stronger, less tired.

He opened his eyes to the concrete ceiling, trying to figure out what Steve was doing. He couldn’t feel Steve, he was probably asleep, or, Steve was far away enough that he just wasn’t feeling anything strongly enough to let Bucky feel it.

He looked around slowly, head feeling heavy as lead and aching horribly. He was in a concrete cell, a metal door at the entrance. He was strapped to a medical bed, the mattress thin, the sheets scratchy.

His left forearm was still numb, which was weird, if it was injured, it should be hurting more than everything else, not less.

He looked at his arm.

Maybe he was dreaming he thought, looking at the place where the rest of his arm had been.

It was probably a nightmare, with the fact that he was alone, but... it would be worse if Steve was here. He had plenty of nightmares about Steve in Hydra’s hands, and if he was dreaming he’d be awake by now. He always woke up immediately if he realized that he was dreaming.

If... if this was real then... he would be sent home once he was rescued, an honourable discharge. He wouldn’t be able to protect Steve anymore, and with how angry that Steve had been at Hydra and Zola after Bucky had been captured the first time... he would only make stupider decisions.

Or maybe, he thought, remembering falling from the train, Steve reaching for him, the cold wind whipping through his hair. Maybe Steve would blame himself, like he so often did. That would be awful.

He needed to get rescued for that to happen though, he could help with that, gather some info, give it to the Allies once he was rescued. He wasn’t going to gather much info in the cell though, so he decided to call some attention to himself, despite his pounding heart.

“Hey!” He called out, weak and croaky. “I could use some water in here, maybe some food!”

After a long period of silence, punctuated by Bucky shouting as loud as he could, a soldier came into the cell. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent, saying, “ahh, Sergeant Barnes is it? You were quite the acquisition.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be our allies,” Bucky croaked. “Cause tying me to a bed isn’t usually ally behaviour.”

“Me and my team were sent to retrieve your body,” the soldier said smugly, ignoring Bucky’s words. “We saw that you were alive, unlikely as it was. If we can find a way to transfer your resilience to our soldiers, well, it would be a worthy investment.”

“Steve will rescue me,” Bucky said firmly as he could manage, stomach dropping. “He’s Captain America in case you weren’t aware.”

“He won’t,” the soldier said. “I gave him your dog tags myself, told him that you were dead. He clearly believed me, it’s been three days, and nobody else has been sent out to search. We will have all the time in the world to experiment on you.”

Then the soldier fiddled with his IV, and walked out of the room.

That explained why his tags were missing at least.

Bucky’s heart began to race, and pulled on the bond in a panic, but there was no response, Steve was probably sleeping, not able to tell that he was alive and trying to get his attention. What kind of stupid things would Steve do if he thought that Bucky was dead?

Later, he decided. When Steve was awake he’d pull on the bond properly, make sure that Steve knew that he was alive. The drugs hit him quickly after that, dragging him into sleep.

+-+

Bucky startled awake later, not sure what had woken him up. He reached for the bond automatically, but... something was wrong.

He tugged sharply at the bond, but Steve didn’t answer.

Then he realized that the bond was... fading. Slowly getting fainter, like a pencil line slowly getting erased.

What was happening? Why was the bond fading like this?

The bond was fading faster now, disappearing, dissolving.

And then the bond was gone, like it had never existed.

The only remainder was a hollow place in his chest, tight with pain, and the smallest fragment of the thread that tied them, still attached somehow.

Steve was... gone.

Had he died? Had... had he died because he had been reckless once he thought that Bucky had died?

He knew that Steve was always worse when Bucky wasn’t around, just like he was when Steve wasn’t around, but... had his supposed death really affected Steve that much?

But if Steve was dead... he realized that he could feel tears coming down his cheeks.

If Steve was gone forever... if he wasn’t going to see Steve for the rest of his short and painful life...

At least this group would have his body for even less time. He had been told that the one that wasn’t dead would take half as long to get to the same symptoms as before. He’d last two months instead of four.

It might be painful, but at least he would see Steve at the end of it.

He cried more, feeling like the tears were leaching all the strength out of him, taking everything with them on their way out of his body, energy included. He fell asleep again, still crying.

+-+

Another soldier had come in, trying to pull information out of him about the serum.

“You will spend the rest of your life in this place,” he said. “There is no point in trying to hide information that we will pull out of your body. It might even hurt less if we have a starting point.”

“You won’t have as much time as you think,” Bucky said, resigned. “I’ve been getting bad sick spells pretty often lately,” he said, determined to make them frantic, maybe make mistakes, give him information he could use, maybe kill him before too much bad stuff could happen. “They’ve been getting worse every time it happens. Steve let me stay on the team, at least until I got worse. Who knows how long I’ll last?”

“You’re just saying that,” the soldier said, looking worried anyways. He exited the room, saying, “we obviously won’t be getting any useful information from you.” He sounded flustered, probably worried about failing by him dying.

Bucky basked in the minimal pain, knowing that it would likely be few and far between once they started.

+-+

Bucky woke up later to nearly incomprehensible words, body slowly coming alert. He was pretty sure that the words were Russian, but the heavy exhaustion in his body kept him from recognizing any of the words that he did know.

He slowly realized that the straps on his body were gone, but he had been grabbed, two people dragging him upright between them. He began to wriggle, trying to get out of their arms, but it was useless. He could barely move at all, much less fight off the soldiers. He opened his eyes, seeing bare concrete walls, like his cell had been made of. The soldiers laughed, obviously amused by his feeble attempts.

Then they walked into a room full of machines and lab equipment. They shoved him into what looked like an upright metal coffin, but with a small glass window, and machines surrounding it.

They closed the door, and he could feel a wave of cold air. It got colder and colder, until his skin was prickling with heat.

He tried to grasp for the bond, but he only felt the hollow in his chest, sending a sharp pain through his heart. Steve was dead, he remembered, gone until he died too.

He realized that there was frost crawling up the side of the metal, and the tears in his eyes were freezing slowly, blurring his vision.

His skin was burning with heat, despite the obvious cold. He closed his eyes, brain slowing down, his thoughts dulling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo yeah, I’m sorry. Bucky doomed himself. 😬 
> 
> The next chapter is probably even sadder though, so this one might not seem as bad? I hope you all enjoyed it anyways!


	4. The one time he didn’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for vague torture and dehumanization, tell me if I need to add more warnings

The Asset was regaining consciousness slowly, the deep ache in it’s bones from the cyro it’s companion.

They hauled it out, ignoring its limpness, jarring the arm, sending a sharp pain through it’s aching shoulder. The arm was heavy, pulling on it’s spine, and always ached the most after cyro and hard battles.

Something was different though, something was... attached to it’s chest?

It was like a cord, one end attached to it’s chest, and the other end attached to something else. It had to be a malfunction though. When it opened its eyes, the cord was not visible, and the direction it was going in was occupied by a wall, but it wasn’t snagging.

The warmth of the air in the corridor hurt, a prickling wave of heat across it’s skin.

Pain is inconsequential, it reminded itself.

“It gets slower every time,” one of the soldiers said. “No wonder this mission will be its last, it still needs to be dragged along!”

“Definitely,” another soldier said. “And with Insight on the horizon, soon it will be completely useless. I wonder if it will be able to take out even one of the Avengers at this rate.”

The Asset felt a pang of... something. Almost like anger, but different somehow.

Another soldier butted in, chiding the others. “It’ll shape up on the field, and besides, it isn’t your jobs to criticize Pierce’s plan, he’s probably thought every possibility through.”

The other soldiers shut up, and they dragged the Asset in silence.

Then they walked into a room, and placed it in the chair in the middle of the room.

It felt bad somehow, the machines around it menacing, making it’s heart pound.

The restraints came down, strapping it’s arms to the armrests.

The chair smelt like fear and... ozone, like electricity.

Something was wrong, adrenaline starting to pump through it’s body.

It’s mouth opened automatically, as a mouth guard was put in front of it.

It’s breathing started to get faster as it bit down, the machines starting to whir and move.

It bit down harder, making it’s jaw ache, it wouldn’t malfunction, despite its desperately pounding heart.

Then the pain started, pulling a scream from it’s throat, despite the fear of punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am very aware that I am cruel, but there will be another chapter next Thursday! See you all then!


	5. And one time he didn’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys haven’t gotten the notification yet, the note I left on the companion story has now been changed to the actual chapter! Yay!

The Asset gained consciousness, restrained to the Chair.

It’s head ached, pulsing with- _pain is irrelevant soldier._

There was an oddness to the body, something like a wire attached to it’s chest.

It opened its eyes, but there was nothing there.

A malfunction? But it had just been reprogrammed, which was supposed to fix it.

There was a pinch in it’s right elbow, a needle attached to a bag of fluid.

There was a sudden surge of... something. Almost like adrenaline, but oddly blunted, and with a feeling like falling.

It was supposed to report malfunctions but... it felt familiar, like the chair, but not, and if it existed after the chair it couldn’t be a malfunction.

It was hauled up, the IV being pulled out of its arm, and dragged to a small room to the side. It was covered in tile, hoses on the wall.

“Clothes off,” the Handler said, going to the hoses.

The water was cold, the spray sharp as needles.

It focused on the wire in its chest, going away from the spray and soap. The wire went through the walls, but a warmth emanated from it, despite the way that it pulled the Asset in the direction it was going.

It was pulled out of the room, dripping icy water, and pulled into the debriefing room. There were many folders strewn across the table, and a Handler waiting inside.

“Your Mission will be to kill as many of the people in these files as possible,” the Handler ordered. “You will be dropped off a certain distance away from the tower that they stay in, and stay inconspicuous until you get inside the tower and attack. The place is highly protected, so the best way in is to climb up the side, starting from the roof of another building. There will be no time limit for this Mission, but your priority is to kill as many as possible, as soon as possible. If you are discovered, they have enough resources to make it even more difficult to get to them. Study these files,” the Handler added, walking out of the room.

The Asset opened the folders, suppressing a shiver. _Weakness will not be tolerated soldier._

It felt a sudden tug at the wire, startling it, but it resumed going through the files.

It would be a hard Mission, with all of the extraordinary fighters in the tower, not as good as the Asset, but some of them stronger. It would need all the weapons that it could carry.

It looked at the file for Captain America for a long time, feeling the tugging at the other end of the wire. The picture of the armour that Captain America wore felt like a steady pull, head starting to ache, a faint image of the outfit, slightly different, in its crosshairs.

It was an impossible image, the Asset had never failed a Mission, it was a very odd malfunction.

The tugging was like a itchy seam in its armour, it made it angry, and was distracting, keeping it from putting its full focus on the Mission.

It tugged back at the wire.

The constant tugging stopped for a second, a warm feeling glowing from it’s chest, despite it not being visible. Then the tugging began again, more frantic, yanking sharp and quick.

It ignored it, even though it was harder this time, and went back to the files. The plan of climbing the building was solid, there seemed to be no defences on the outside, and the walls of the tower were tall and straight enough that an assault would not be expected.

There was very little information on the habits of the inhabitants, with no information from inside the tower.

Usually, near the time that the Asset was slated to arrive at the tower, Thor and Hawkeye would have left, and with the injection that it would be given that might disable the Hulk, the heaviest hitters would be out of the way, leaving it time to pick off the inhabitants one by one.

Next it was taken to the supply room.

“Get dressed and armed with the items provided,” the Handler said.

It got dressed in the armour provided, trying to not focus on the wire that shouldn’t exist, and the frantic yanking coming from it.

Then it went to the table with the weapons, a duffle bag on the table, probably for carrying the bulkier ones. It would need to hide them under the soft, loose shirt with a hood that they gave it, so that it would blend into the crowds, but once it began attacking it would carry all the weapons on it’s body.

It picked mostly knives, easy to hide, quieter, and didn’t need reloading. Guns were piled into the bag, along with extra ammo, and a rocket launcher as well, along with many other small weapons.

It was also arrayed with a set of white wires with nothing attached. There were two parts that went in the ears like comms, and the other end was tucked into the pocket in the front of the shirt, which was were it’s arm and the arm were to stay as well, at least until it began climbing.

It was directed to a delivery van, and into the back, with two Handlers in the front. The truck drove for a while, but once it began to speed up, staying straight, it realized that they were headed in the direction that the wire was leading.

As they got farther, the tightness in its chest and the wire loosened, like it was real and not a malfunction.

It sparked pain in its head, and malfunctions in the form of thoughts and images, so it let itself drift away to the rumble of the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. This part was two chapters because it was technically the one time that happened... at least in his memory. This chapter and the previous one also have the same title, for even more angst!
> 
> The Winter Soldier parts were annoying to write, because I kept defaulting to Bucky and he, not the Asset and it, but I think I got it all figured out!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
